


Cursed Gifts

by epkitty



Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Gen, Morality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-01
Updated: 2011-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epkitty/pseuds/epkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The whys and wherefores of the triplets: a fairytale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cursed Gifts

Once upon a time – in an ancient land – there were three triplets, identical boys born to a great but cruel warlord. For a great many years, they grew up fairly happily together. Jett’s skill with a weapon was passable and Jace’s talent with the lire was adequate. But Joxer was a true genius of the sword and of music, and the perfect child of a warlord. He balanced grace with ferocity and talent with intelligence. No matter the skills of his brothers, Joxer—first born and best loved—could easily surpass them.

But the competitions of children were nothing to the fierce jealousy that arose in Joxer’s brothers. The love Jett and Jace had for the other triplet was shadowed by an insatiable rage, a greed to be what Joxer was, to have what Joxer had.

So, the two brothers formed a pact, and on the eve of their 13th birthday, traveled together to an old temple and gave tribute. To the God of Mischief. Offering forth the first-born calf of that spring, they attracted Strife’s attention. With devotion and sobriety, they appealed to the trickster god to strip the egotistical Joxer of his considerable abilities and divide them among the forgotten brothers.

Intrigued, Strife appeared before them, his inane giggling a shock to the mortals. They did not quail at the sight of the god though, determined as they were to have their wishes fulfilled. “Fascinating,” Strife observed. “You would do this cruelty to your kin? Steal his god-given talents for yourselves?” The boys affirmed their intent. “And what would I receive in payment, what shall be my price for this gift to you?”

Jett answered, “We shall ever be true to you and you alone, our God among gods.”

Jace elaborated, “We shall be your servants until death, our joy in pleasing you alone.”

Flattered by their words and captivated by their intense need, Strife accepted, drawing forth a blood-bond from the brothers and promising to work the godly magic at midnight. So it was, while Joxer slept blissfully in his bed, the god crept within his very mind and body to steal the rightly owned talents, transferring to the conniving brothers what they so desired. And as the moon passed over the sky, as the triplets reached their thirteenth year, all of Joxer’s considerable skills were ripped from him and thrust upon his undeserving brothers.

But perhaps those two should not have been so hasty in their oath, for when Strife infused the two boys, waiting in the stables to practice their new powers, he did indeed divvy up Joxer’s gifts between them, but not equally.

Receiving the innate talent for weapons, for agility and quick hands, for stealth and speed was Jett. Receiving the natural grace, ear for music, eye for taste was Jace. The brothers, who at first bickered between themselves and accosted their god, never again saw Strife and came to a sort of peace between themselves, though they grew ever apart. Jett, while lacking strength, used his agility and proficiency in weapons and theft to hone the fine skills of a merciless warrior. Jace, while able to handle a sword, took interest in other things, holding music and theatre and arts above all else.

But while the boys had demanded the skills and talents and brilliance of their brother, they had requested no part of his soul. So Jett, imbibed with Joxer’s abilities but not his compassion, found his gifts overcoming him, and gave into them, becoming the most proficient he could be: he became an assassin. He now had the skills to match his bloodthirsty lusts. But an assassin would never know fame, and so his triumphs remained secret and Jett became bitter.

And Jace, also graced with Joxer’s powers, found his gifts overcoming him, and gave into them, becoming the most proficient he could be: he became a jester. He now had the talents to satisfy his desires for fame and fortune. But a minstrel whose talents with the harp were fine was nothing without the soul to create that very music. Without Joxer’s creativity, he was nothing but a man for hire, in more ways than one, and Jace became bitter.

So while the two thieves bemoaned their acquisitions, Joxer’s sure and stable world swiftly became one of confusion and unintentional hilarity. The very journey from bed to breakfast that next morning was lined in pitfalls he’d always managed to avoid. He weaved down the hallway and toppled down the stairs, and never again could he perfect the handling of a sword or the fingerings of a lute. And it was sadly proclaimed and believed by all but four entities in the known universe that the most promising young warrior in Greece had sustained one too many blows to the head.

Watching over his personal favorite, Ares studied Joxer with concern, and it was more than apparent who had interfered with this warrior’s life. Strife answered his uncle’s summons in haste. “What have you done?” Ares, calm and collected God of War, was far more frightening than the more commonly seen vitriolic and vengeful God of War.

Strife cowered before his uncle and swiftly explained. Ares did not answer swiftly, turning his attention to the three brothers. “You have meddled with one of my followers.” Strife hung his head. “But in doing so, he still remains loyal to me, and you have gained two of your own.” Unsure, Strife carefully met his uncle’s gaze. “Your talent for spreading strife and discord has certainly grown, Erin. And to this end, I will make you a bargain. You have the undying loyalties of two followers, but you shall never see them again. You are not to interfere with their lives. No guidance. No unseen helping hands. You are free of them.”

Understanding the powerful Olympian, Strife elaborated, “But they will never be free of me. Without my guiding hand, their own devotion to mischief—to strife—will lead them astray. I understand you perfectly, uncle.” He bowed before his superior, who dismissed him with a wave of the hand.

The War God turned his attention once more his own devoted follower. “Whatever you may think, you have not failed me.”

Joxer was immediately saddened by his loss, and seeing the sudden growth of his brothers, he knew his time had come. He quickly left home, not wishing to dishonor his family. And he was finally free to wander the world as he pleased, just as he’d always desired.

And all those many years later, when he encountered his brothers again, the bitter young boys who had become bitter young men, were astonished to find themselves once again envious of the fool their brother had become. The stolen talents that they abused were lost to Joxer, but he had drawn on reserves of something they’d never understand. For when there was no food, Joxer’s soul infused him with strength, and when there was no heat, Joxer’s heart filled him with warmth. His disposition and his spirit had never changed; his soul remained the same, just as large and loving as ever it had been. He’d overcome disability and foolishness to live a fulfilling life of adventure, to gain the trust of many friends, and to simply be happy with himself.

= = = = =

The End


End file.
